Protection Detail
by 4sweetdreams
Summary: When Jenny and Ziva were partners, Ziva was given a secret to protect. After JD, she must decide if Rule # 4 still applies- especially when keeping it may cause more harm than good. I wanted to "fill in some gaps"/ look at Jen/Ziva's friendship/ have some fun with what I WISH could have happened and add a few new faces along the way.
1. Chapter 1

**Protection Detail**

Summary: After JD, Jenny's closest friend must decide when and if it is safe to disclose a secret. When does keeping a secret no longer apply? Especially when it involves Gibbs?

Disclaimer: NCIS is owned by DBP/CBS/Paramount. I have used story & lines from Seasons 3-7. No copyright infringement is intended. The background & other characters are from my imagination. A.J. is my own personal muse. I started this story over almost two years ago- the computer died and my muse went on hiatus.

Pairing: Jenny/Gibbs and the friendship between Jenny/Ziva

Rating: T+ It may venture into M, but I'll try my best to give proper warning when/if it does.

Author's Note:  My version of what I would have liked to have seen happen. I am of the opinion that the writers of NCIS want us to forget that Jennifer Shepard ever existed. I refuse to do so. I also hate not finishing what I start, so this is my attempt-after 2 years! Ha! This is dedicated to "Jenny"—a character I will always dearly love and admire; and to Ellie, who helps me remember reasons why.

**Washington, D.C. October 2010**

Ziva David was finishing up the last five miles of her run. It was a good morning for a run in D.C. Her breath was evident in the frosty morning air. As she jogged, she thought of the argument—no, the discussion- that she and Tony once shared on an elevator. Looking back, it seemed so many years ago. In truth, it _**had been**_ years. Although some still found her demeanor distant or detached, she knew that Tony was right. Down deep, she really was "just a girl". Having and showing emotion did not mean that she was weak. Securing her citizenship and facing the demons with her father had helped her come to terms with struggles that had haunted her since leaving Israel for good. She finished her run, slowing to a walk to catch her breath. She pulled the bright orange watch cap from her head, letting her long brown hair tumble down her shoulders. Today she had taken a new route. One that she had mapped out two weeks earlier, but that she had not tried until now. Today, she thought, was a good day. A day for- what was the American word?

"Reflection"

Looking down at the watch cap, she allowed small sad smile to cross her exotic features. Roy. Roy would have understood without having to ask her to explain. Today, however, she was here to pay respect to another friend: A confidant; a mentor. She walked across the park and towards the cemetery.

She had found the marker without difficulty. She stood beside a large oak tree and surveyed the area carefully before venturing out. Some things did not die- this old habit was one of them. She made sure she was alone. She looked curiously at the gray granite stone. In the early morning light, it looked so cold and impersonal. It did not in any way reflect the person it was was left to represent. She approached and knelt, uncharacteristically letting her hand trace the words:

**JENNIFER SHEPARD**

**October 28, 1963- May 20, 2008**

"Shalom, Jen" she said into the stillness.

The sun broke through the clouds and as she looked up, the remaining leaves on the large oak reflected a glorious golden red. Visions of the first time she had met her friend and thoughts of the shared secrets and promises made since that day. Instead of tears, she smiled. And let she herself remember.

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

**Protection Detail- Chapter 2: Joint Op**

**Disclaimer**: Small spurts of recognized parts belong to DBP, CBS, and Paramount. The rest of the stuff comes from my overactive imagination, too little sleep, and a sad heart. Sometimes life doesn't always turn out the way we plan or hope.

**Authors Note**: I appreciated the old reviews. They were deleted when I reposted this story. I do hope that I can garner some new ones!

**Chapter 2 Joint Operation **

**American Embassy, London, September, 2001**

Jennifer Shepard groaned as the telephone rang. She had tried—unsuccessfully- to block out the sun that had risen far too early for her mood. The insistent ringing of the telephone was not helping her headache. She swore softly as she padded across the room and picked up the handle to silence the irritating noise.

"Shepard" she snapped.

"Good morning, Special Agent Shepard. I trust I have not called too early?" A familiar male voice crackled across the secure line and jolted her awake.

"No, Sir. Good morning, Director Morrow" she gulped. _Damn! Her boss._ "How are you, Sir? Has the situation stabilized at all?"

Back in Washington, D.C., NCIS Director Tom Morrow exhaled heavily, "No, Jenny. Sadly, the political fires that started two weeks ago with the Towers and the Pentagon are not as easily extinguished as the physical ones."

The pain in his voice was not difficult to recognize. "I was sorry to hear of the loss of your brother, Sir".

"Thank you" He hesitated briefly. "Jonathan always said that the Pentagon was the safest place in the world to work. I guess those bastards proved him wrong."

He cleared his throat and she instantly knew that was his segue into much more important business. "I'm calling to inform you of a meeting today at 1800. I've admired your flexibility while on assignment. You've done a great job for us in Europe, Shepard. Now I have an opportunity for you".

Wide awake now, Jen reached for a paper and pen, "Yes, Sir. I'm ready"

"SecNav has been working closely with our allies since 9/11. We need to know where we have loyalties- especially now. I've been instructed to cooperate with the Israeli Embassy and form a task force on anti-terrorist ops."

"The Israeli's, Sir?" Jenny's caution and surprise were palpable in her halting words.

"Yes, Agent Shepard. One of their best is flying in from Tel-Aviv. You are to meet at our Embassy at 1800. You will discuss plans sent regarding the coordination of our intel and the development of a joint op. SOP but with certain precautions, of course. Any questions?"

"No, Sir"

Morrow's voice was grave, "Jenny, this may be a long process. Classified and 'need to know'. I know your strengths have been focused more recently on arms control. I'm not going to deny that this means more to me than guns, missiles and WMD. This is for Jonathan. I only want my best agents involved. I selected you".

She was humbled by his words. "I will not let you down, Sir".

"I hope not", Morrow chuckled, "I'd hate to have to send Jethro over there to bail you out".

Her sudden intake of breath at the mention of her former partners name was thankfully not audible. _Leroy Jethro Gibbs_. She steeled her voice, "That won't be necessary, Sir. I was trained well. I appreciate the opportunity."

"Don't thank me just yet. You haven't met your new partner. I just finished reviewing the file"

"Do you anticipate a problem?"

A continent away, Tom Morrow smiled to himself. Jennifer Shepard was not an agent that was easily intimidated. "No. Let's just say that I'm interested to see how you will adapt to a Mossad assassin who has been trained to kill you rather than argue the finer points of an issue."

"I can take care of myself, Sir. Perhaps it's the assassin who should be warned."

Morrow actually laughed lightly at her response. "Pick that attitude up from Gibbs, did you?"

Jenny eyed the half-empty bottle of bourbon on her nightstand. "I picked up a lot of habits from Special Agent Gibbs".

"Good. Then you were the right choice. 1800, Shepard. I'm counting on you". The call ended.

Jenny replaced the receiver and mentally shook herself. _I need coffee_, she thought. _Another thing you picked up from Gibbs._ She moved back to the bed and threw herself down on the rumpled bedclothes.

_Gibbs_.

How long had it been since she let herself be reminded of the man?

_It was only yesterday._

Jenny closed her emerald green eyes and sighed. God! The memories. Places—DC, Marseilles, Positano, Serbia, London... and Paris. Her heart ached with memories of Paris.

_But without Paris, you wouldn't have your memory from yesterday. _

Jenny opened her eyes and smiled. Paris was bittersweet... she had to focus on the sweet. The sweet made her laugh and smile. Nothing would take that away from her. Not even this job that she loved so much. Her private life was just that—private. She rolled from the bed and headed toward the shower. She thought of the new op with anticipation. _An assassin for a partner?_ Well, it wouldn't be the first time. Her mentor had been a Marine sniper. While killing had never come naturally to her, she had learned that it was sometimes a necessary and vital part of the job—one that Jethro had taught her to accept.

_Jethro. Blue eyes, warm hands, hard body, kissable lips_. Those thoughts alone made her tingle in places she hadn't thought about in a while. She stepped into the shower. As she adjusted the water temperature, she grinned. _I thought only men needed to take cold showers._

**London, American Embassy Briefing Room, 1800 **

Jenny entered the secure briefing room at precisely 1800. In some ways, it reminded her of a larger and better lit —but no less secure—version of MTAC back in D.C. Since the attack on the World Trade Center, the staff had doubled and the place was swarming with activity. She glanced around, and nodded at some of the techs and agents that she had come to know during her time in London.

Her eyes searched the room, looking for her contact. _Hell, what did one look for in an Israeli assassin?_ She felt herself under observation long before she found the source. Something Jethro no doubt would attribute to a 'gut' feeling. Clearly, the person she sought had found her first. She turned toward the source while remaining calm, calculated, and completely in control. Cool, unreadable brown eyes met her green ones. The woman was petite yet lithe and—in Jenny's opinion— far too young. _The eyes, however, looked old. Like they had seen far too many things. This was one of Mossad's finest?_ Not quite what she had expected. It was obvious, however, that the Israeli had known who she was there to meet. Jenny smiled and put out her hand. "Special Agent Jenny Shepard, NCIS". The Israeli woman tilted her head while assessing the redhead in front of her. She dismissed the hand in front of her, choosing instead to curtly nod, "Ziva David. Mossad".

**London Embassy Briefing Room – 2100 **

"And I am saying that you are wrong!" Ziva slapped her hand loudly on the desk, both for emphasis and to relieve some of the pent up frustration she felt. "We warned both your FBI and CIA of the pending attack, yes? Your leaders did not listen, but we were right. Why then do you doubt me now?"

Jenny had to smile. For one so young, Ziva was opinionated and fearless when it came to defending her position. While Jenny herself had often been called opinionated (and several other things that she had heard whispered when people thought she was not listening), she was politically savvy enough not to venture into open hostility.

Especially when Ziva was right.

The Israelis had tried to warn her government of a large scale attack based on U.S soil. The "big letter boys" that comprised the Washington bureaucracy had done nothing with the supplied intelligence. And now, after the loss of thousands of lives, the America of her childhood would never be the same.

"It is only out of respect for your Deputy Director that I don't-" the egotistical American agent leaned dangerously close to the young Mossad officer and Jenny knew that intervention was critical.

"You do not what?" Ziva sneered while carefully annunciating each word. Her hands were slightly shaking and she was dangerously close to the breaking point. _The man was arrogant_! She would have snapped his neck half an hour before if not for the mission at hand.

Jenny cleared her throat, and cautiously placed a gentle hand on Ziva's arm, before firmly speaking out in her defense. "Officer David is correct." She turned to the Mossad officer and spoke softly, "Ziva, please. Sit. Anger at this point accomplishes nothing."

The male agent turned, snorted loudly and, -_wisely_, Ziva thought- walked away.

"The man is an insufferable donkey's butt!" she hissed to Jen.

Jenny smiled wryly, "I think the correct phrase is 'horse's ass", but yes; you are right on that count, too"

The meeting ran until 2300. Exhausted, it was mutually decided that all agents were to adjourn and resume at 0800. Hopefully, some of the conflicting issues and the arguments would dissipate by morning.

Ziva stood partly shielded by the doorway of the small secure balcony in Jenny's room at the Embassy. She was quietly lost in her own thoughts amidst the background of the low rumble of sound that was London.

"You flew in from Tel Aviv this morning?" The question was polite.

"No. I arrived two days ago" She saw no need to lie. The truth would be known soon enough.

"Drink?" Jen raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"Yes, please". Ziva accepted the glass of white wine, "Todah". She watched as Jen poured a generous portion of bourbon into her own glass.

"How do you drink that?" She had tried bourbon during a recent undercover mission and had found it barely tolerable even in small amounts.

"It's an acquired taste" the older woman answered, smiling into her glass.

Ziva turned to stare into the night. It had been a stressful day. She knew the importance Mossad had placed on this mission. It had been drilled into her that it could be mutually beneficial to both countries—for reasons not necessarily listed on the officially sanctioned agenda. Obviously, the Director of NCIS held this woman in high esteem. She, however, had a few questions of her own that needed to be answered.

"I have read your dossier. Impressive. Although, I found it a bit incomplete."

"Incomplete?"

"You have been with your NCIS for ten years, yes? No mention of a husband. No mention of a child. Am I missing something?" she paused, pulling three photographs out of her bag and placing them on the table in front of the American. "Or are they?"

One glance at the photographs and Jenny knew. _The grounds of the estate. Yesterday. But who? How had they known? The house and grounds were secure. _

"Where did you get these?" she demanded.

"I took them myself. Yesterday"

"You followed me?" Her green eyes narrowed.

"In Mossad, we are taught certain skills of observation. I have my own way of finding out what I need to know. He is your son, yes?"

Jen sighed into her glass of bourbon. _A blunt question that demanded an honest answer_. She raised her eyes to the Israeli.

"You are very resourceful."

"I am a spy" was the frank response.

"My Director has agreed that certain portions of my life would be held in the strictest confidence. They do not appear on my dossier. I have never been married. I do, however, have a child"

"You are protecting someone?"

Jenny's heart constricted. "Yes, I am." _More than one someone._

"We all have secrets. We have fabricated lives, and lies, to shelter ourselves and those that we love or have a responsibility to protect." Ziva's tone was matter of fact and Jenny found it reassuring. "If we are going to work together, there are things that I must know. But there are also things that I have no business knowing. I will respect your boundaries as long as you respect mine"

The women's eyes met and they smiled slightly at each other. _Yes_, Jenny thought, _this might work after all._

"Rule # 4" she said aloud.

"Number 4 of what?" Ziva looked confused.

"The best way to keep a secret? Keep it to yourself. The second best, tell one other person, if you must. There is no third best."

Ziva considered this for a moment and finished her wine before answering. "I think I may like this Rule # 4. Are there many others?"

"Yes. I can share them as we go along". She caught herself smiling. _Gibbs certainly __**would not**__ approve of her teaching his rules to a Mossad assassin._

Ziva picked up her backpack and turned to go. She pointed to the photographs on the table. "The intel I gathered was for my own purpose. I see no need for it to go beyond this room."

"Ziva?" The younger woman paused at the door, allowing Jenny to continue, "Trust is not something that comes easily for me. Your discretion is much appreciated. I would like you to know that I believe that I can trust you. I think that we—this partnership—could work.

The Israeli considered her words. "Perhaps. Work now. Trust will come in time"

She left, closing the door quietly behind her.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

**Protection Detail- Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own much of anything – the bank and I have worked out an amicable arrangement about the house. The kids and dog are up for debate. I'd offer the "ex" but –even before he got ill—he was more of a challenge than anyone needed. All hail DBP/CBS/ and Paramount!

**Authors Note**: Time line jumps around a bit in this chapter between the present and Jen's memories of her past. I hope it's not too confusing! NEW CHAPTERS are coming after this!  
_

**Chapter 3: Memory Lane**

**September 2001**

Jenny let her finger lightly trace over the faces in the photographs left by the Israeli. _Resourceful indeed. _ She had no reason to doubt Ziva's word regarding the intel, but she was no fool. She would speak to Gwen in the morning about the lapse in security. Despite this new operation, her son's welfare was paramount. As his mother, her heart had made that promise to him on the day he was born. Jenny took a deep drink from her glass of bourbon. She sighed as she gazed down at the almost two year old boy. His hair was more red than brown especially in sunlight; her green eyes were smiling into his blue ones. NCIS may be her passion, but A.J. Shepard, was her heart. She picked up one particular shot and couldn't help but smile. The light in the child's eyes was bright and the light of the morning sun had caught his hair making the red highlights glow. With the exception of the hair, the boy was his father personified.

"Please be safe, my love" she whispered to the boy in the photo. She wished she could hold him close to her—knowing the feel of his young body would give her the reassurance she craved. Keeping her job had demanded that she make tough decisions that often dictated how and when she could spend time with him. She had been so careful.

_Evidently, not careful enough._

This new op would bring new challenges. How long would she have to leave him this time? She remembered the first time she had to make a choice between her job and her son. The years had not made that decision any easier.

**London, March, 2000**

Gwen had insisted that a little night air would do her some good. Help her 'clear her head' and 'come to terms' with the difficult decision that she had made. Jenny raised her head and allowed her eyes to gaze into the sky. _She was making the right choice in leaving him here. Letting him stay safe. C'mon, Shepard! Breathe, damn it! _

_No good_. _Her heart still hurt at the thought of parting._

She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her overcoat, smiling as her fingers connected with a familiar object. The night air might help her clear her head, but it did little to help her forget. Not that she wanted to-not entirely. Looking up at the estate, she saw the light shine softly from the third floor window. He was there. The best part of her and what might have been.

She glanced up at the sky again and wondered what time it was in D.C. What was _**he**_ doing right now? Did he still have that damn boat in his basement? He was married now. The idiot! Didn't his experience with Diane teach him anything? She could hardly hold any ill will towards Mrs. Gibbs # 3. They had been introduced by Ducky of all people. It was difficult to hold any grudge towards the Scotsman. Everyone who knew Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard liked him. Ducky had worked together with both she and Jethro. No doubt, he had just been trying to help Gibbs move on. She wondered how Stephanie was getting along. Maybe she could make it work. Maybe it would last. Maybe he would be happy. _That was a hell of a lot of maybe_s. In spite of everything, she wanted every one of those for him. The sad stab in her heart reminded her that it might have been her that was making him smile. Might have been her loving him tonight. Might have been her with a ring on her finger. _Hell of a lot of "might have beens", too. _

She thought back. There was no doubt that there had been passion. Her skin could still flush with the memory of it. Raw, unadulterated need. And tempers! God, the fights they had! The man was insufferable at times. The scuttlebutt when she first joined his team was that the "second B" in Gibbs stood for "bastard". There were days she had no trouble believing it. If she were honest, however, making up was almost as fun as the arguments. She swore that he instigated just as many as she had so they could do just that—make up. Was it more than passion? Jenny had gotten her answer after five years of working and then two of sleeping with the same man. Amidst learning his "rules", his moods and the unique rhythm that just made him Gibbs, they had fallen in love. Love that relied less on words and was more easily conveyed in a look or the slightest of touches. She had never felt like that with any man before. The sheer power of that emotion was part of her decision to run. She had never planned on meeting a man like Jethro. She had an agenda of her own. A debt she owed to a father she had loved… and lost. "Settling down" was not one of the points in her five-point plan.

She recalled her father quoting "People plan and God laughs". Well, the Lord above certainly had shown that He possessed a sense of humor. She hadn't known she was pregnant until three months after she left Paris. Initially, she had attributed her ill stomach to stress or the flu; the report from her treating physician had been a shock.

In a moment of weakness, she needed to talk to someone. Stan was like a brother, but Burley wasn't known for being the best listener: given an issue, he was set to "fix' it. She just needed someone to listen. In the end, she called the only other person who had known them all well. __

**June 1999**

"_Ducky?" _

The doctor smiled and sat down in his autopsy suite. He was glad for the chance to talk to the living. Even if it was on the telephone. He would take what he could get.

"_Jennifer, my dear! How surprising to hear your voice!" _

She knew Ducky well enough to know that there was more than surprise in his voice upon receiving her call. She could feel the undercurrent of hesitation.

"_Ducky. I'm still in Europe. How are you?" _She tried to keep her voice steady.

"_Fine. And yourself?" _He was reserved—unusual for the man she had known.

"_Ducky, please. It's me. Don't be angry. We've know each other too long to play polite."_

The Scotsman sighed, and then slightly chuckled_, "You always did get right to the point. One of the many qualities I admire about you. No hard feelings. I'm just a little surprised that you would be calling- especially now."_

"_How is he?" _She could not help that her voice quivered with that question and the variation was not lost on the good doctor.

"_He's trying to move on Jenny. I surmise this call has something to do with Stephanie?"_

"_Stephanie?" _her voice chilled. She vaguely recalled a red head from the DOD. She had met her once at a party before she and Jethro had gone undercover.

"_Oh, my! I thought that was why you called" _He hesitated, trying to soften the impact of his words,_ "Jethro and Stephanie were married yesterday. I just assumed that someone from the Agency mentioned it to you."_

She was quiet for a moment and the sick feeling in her stomach had nothing to do with her pregnancy._ "__Isn't that breaking Rule # 8? Never assume, Doctor Mallard"_

"_I do apologize, my dear. Jethro, being Jethro, never gave specifics, but you did leave him. He said the letter was quite clear."_

Jenny wiped away the tear that had fallen. Jethro was married? Her mind reeled at the thought._ "Does she make him happy? _The inquiry was whispered.

Donald Mallard thought for a moment before answering that question. He was starting to wonder if maybe Jethro had left out some information regarding Jenny's disappearance from Paris._ "Not like_ _he was when he was with you". _An honest answer; one he felt she needed to hear.

"_I never meant to hurt him, Ducky. You know me better than that." _They both were quiet for a beat before she asserted_, "He deserves to be happy. How did they get together?"_

"_I introduced them," _His voice relayed his regret at having to deliver the news_. "Stephanie wasn't very happy about spending a honeymoon in Moscow, but you know how Jethro never could turn down an undercover op." _

Her silence on the line spoke volumes_. "So, if you're calling me from Europe, and it's not concerning our mutual friend, what can I do for you?"_

Jenny hesitated for only a moment. She firmly gripped the telephone_, "Not a thing, Ducky. I was a little homesick and needed to hear a familiar voice today. Promise me you'll watch his back-when you can". _

"_Not to worry, my dear."_

"_Au revoir, Dr. Mallard". _

London, March 2000

Director Morrow had been surprisingly supportive—respecting her right to privacy and not pushing for details. Tom Morrow was a smart man, but if he had put two and two together, he had kept his comments to himself. Jenny trusted him to keep his word. It was that mutual give and take that had kept her with NCIS.

It also was the reason that she was taking in some night air. Life had always been about making choices. Not all of them were easy ones. It had helped that her mother's best friend lived just outside of London. Gwendolyn Lewis had married into aristocracy. She knew the importance of discretion. Both Gwen and her husband had willingly given her a home and the support she needed throughout her pregnancy. They had made arrangements for Andrew that would allow him to remain with them whenever Jenny would need to be away on official NCIS business. She could not have asked for a better pair of surrogate grandparents. It still didn't make having to leave any easier.

The window to the room above her was open. Jenny heard the baby cry and felt the tingling sensation in her breasts as her letdown reflex kicked in. She pulled the pacifier briefly out of her coat pocket and then replaced it, moving to return to the main house. A different kind of duty called. One with soft skin, russet hair and cobalt blue eyes—just like his father. She glanced at the sky again. "I wish that-" she began softly—then stopped. She wished for too many things. Life was certainly no fairy tale-wishes didn't always come true and happy endings were rare.

**September 2001 American Embassy**

She picked up the photographs and stowed them securely. She should have time tomorrow afternoon to store them in the safe on the estate before leaving on the new mission. Each photograph was a memory… precious and treasured. For now, they were hers. She allowed herself the brief luxury of wondering if Jethro would ever see them- and what his reaction would be. Then she pushed the thought firmly aside.

_She had a job to do._

To Be Continued…


	4. Chapter 4

**Protection Detail**

**Disclaimer: **Everything still doesn't belong to me! Just borrowing and returning them right back on the shelf after I've played with them for a bit. Didn't harm them, I promise!

**Author's Note:**** Finally—a new chapter! **Reviews are always appreciated, but please keep in mind, that while I tried to do my homework, I may not always get things "just right"…. I am learning Italian 'cause it's on my "bucket list". Hugs to all!  
_

**Chapter 4 Truth and Consequence **

**Rome, January 2002**

It wasn't usual for the street to be crowded this time of day. Every city has its own unique 'rush hour' and jostling was part of the game no matter what country they were in. To the casual observer, the women were visitors caught up in the flow of people-two friends on holiday. The weather was cooperating today- 55 degrees wasn't bad for January. Especially to someone who had grown up in Georgetown and knew that the weathered charm of the buildings could be attributed to both the unpredictable and harsh winter winds of the Potomac River as much as the age of the brick from which they had been made.

Sunset approached and people were going to their evening destinations. The redhead had a more relaxed demeanor as she walked while her darker companion carried a slight air of vigilance. They entered the Suore di S. Elisabetta and smiled at the plain woman who worked behind the ancient desk that had been efficiently modified to accommodate the change from convent to hotel.

The room was simple—clean and modest. Ziva had eyed the crucifix analytically upon their arrival, but had left it untouched. The set up was certainly more comfortable than some of the accommodations she had shared with her partner over the past four months. The location was ideal: The 16th century palace, turned nunnery and now hotel sat on a hill- the rooftop terrace provided an excellent view of central Rome. The mandated 11pm curfew aided their cover, yet was easy enough for both women to disregard it and slip in and out without fear detection from the hotel staff. When time and conditions were secure, it was only a short walk to the Piazza Santa Maria Maggiore. It also was close to the Termini which provided an excellent shuttle train system which could reach the Leonardo da Vinci International Airport both discreetly and quickly.

"Going out?" Ziva's eyebrow slightly lifted—a habit she had picked up from her companion.

Jenny walked in from the small terrace where she had been staring into the sky. It would be dark soon and -as was her custom-she liked to walk and find a secluded spot by the ancient church. The marble columns felt strong and supportive against her back. And, if she were honest, it reminded her a bit of Paris.

"Just for some air. The drop isn't until tomorrow. Some last minute recon isn't a bad idea. I won't be gone long".

Ziva watched as Jen expertly checked her gun and stowed it in the holder at her back. Covered by a short jacket, it was easily accessible if necessary. She headed toward the door.

"Jen?"

Jenny froze as the breeze from the knife passed over her left ear before imbedding itself into the heavy molding around the door. She did not flinch; choosing instead to turn slowly, letting her green eyes blaze into the brown ones that studied her from across the room. "I am helping you keep your Rule Number 9, yes?"

Jenny turned back and cynically pulled the knife from the door frame. "Do you anticipate a problem, Officer David?'

"No," said the Israeli slowly, "but knives do not run out of bullets".

Jenny slid the knife into her jacket sleeve, gave Ziva a hard look, and walked out the door.

Ziva waited until a full five minutes before slipping off the terrace to follow her.

Jenny walked down the tumbled stone steps savoring the quiet sounds that surrounded the ancient church. She picked a location that allowed her clear view of her surroundings while offering some measure of protection. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lights that lit the grounds and for a few moments she allowed herself to absorb the strength and peace that seemed to emanate from the ancient stone walls.

One more mission before she could go back to London. Forty-eight hours.

She saw him the minute he slipped by one of the columns. Now her body was on full alert. He moved quietly yet with clear purpose. Another figure arose from a bench and turned to greet him. _Evidently, she wasn't the only one doing a bit of reconnaissance this evening. _But she had not anticipated an actual meeting so that, in and of itself, indicated so much more. She watched as the men spoke and gestured. She was too far away to make out words but close enough to read their body language. One was furious; the other placating. _ This wasn't supposed to be happening for another 24 hours according to the latest intel. _

_Evidently, plans had changed. _

Her fingers itched for the Sig at the small of her back, but her orders were clear: OBSERVE. DO NOT ENGAGE. She didn't have to like the command, but knew that following those orders were imperative. She watched avidly as the two men continued to converse in Italian- a langue in which gestures sometimes communicated more clearly than the human tongue.

She didn't hear anything or anyone behind her until one large hand clamped over her mouth and the other well-muscled arm encircled her body.

One thought entered her mind: _Shit! _

Silence –once mastered—is a deadly weapon. That had been one of the first lessons Ziva had learned as a child and it had been honed into a skill upon entering Mossad. She, too, had been watching the men in the courtyard, but her focus was now on her partner. Tonight, she was thankful she had followed her instincts. Something was wrong. They were being followed. She had felt it in the air all day, but had no words to express it to the NCIS agent. True, they had worked well together, but some things were better left unsaid.

She stayed low, creeping along the shadows of far wall of the Piazza, her senses tuned for any other danger that may be hiding in the dark. From her point of view, Jenny was holding her own. The assailant had drug his prize, twisting and fighting all the way, down the hall and away from the two men that had distracted her long enough for him to take an advantage.

"Hold still, dammit, and I'll let you go". The hushed masculine voice was American and very familiar. Jenny stopped struggling, and –as promised—he let her go.

"Will"?

She turned and looked into the face of fellow NCIS agent, William Decker. He had worked with Jethro, Jenny and Ducky during various ops in Europe. _What he was doing in Rome?_

He lifted both hands, and shrugged his shoulders while shooting her the grin that had made him very popular with most women. Thankfully, Jenny had been immune to his particular brand of charm.

"Sorry for the ambush. A lot easier than I thought. Getting a little rusty, Shepard?"

Her resulting glare gave him a clear answer to his question. "Why are you here?" was her question—hissed in angry tone.

"Intel believed you were in Rome. I needed a minute. A private minute with you. Paris, Jen. Oshimyda" It was that last word that made her heart do a double flip. _The last op in Paris. When everything had gone wrong-on so many levels. _

"Look. I'm retiring. After 20 years, I'm done. I was in town and knew that I had to see you. Not sure of your op, so I didn't want to chance a day meeting. We'll always watch each other's back and I don't want this particular ghost to raise its ugly head five or ten years from now".

Jen considered his words carefully. Their last op in Paris with Jethro had not gone as planned. To her knowledge, only she and Decker knew that and, in Europe, it had been the unspoken rule that "…what Gibbs didn't know, couldn't hurt _them_…"

"I appreciate your message although the way you delivered it lacked finesse and may have cost me some intel." Her eyes searched his- and noted the seriousness there. "Ok. Insurance policy in place?"

"Carefully hidden in some old NIS files. Hell, Jethro himself won't be able to figure it out. Code word: "Oshimyda". Promise me if you hear it, call me. We'll take care of the problem _outside _of the Agency."

"Done"

Decker lifted his arms in mock surrender. "You're a fine agent, Jenny. Got me beat. Just be careful".

She watched him turn and fade into the black alley from which he had come. A moment later, Ziva slipped beside her in the darkness. "Are you alright? The situation looked controlled so I did not intervene." She did not ask for more information. Jenny turned and placed a warm hand on the Israeli's arm. "It's ok. Thanks for having my back."

Turning around, they walked toward the Italian square. The men were gone. A firm line crossed the Agent's lips. "Tell me what I missed".

_  
To be continued….


	5. Chapter 5 : Cairo

**Protection Detail****: Cairo**

**Disclaimer: **Still don't, but I still wish I did. What fun we all could have!

**Author's Note**: Rating changes to "M" in a short section…just FYI! I appreciate the reviews! Thank you :0)

**Chapter 5 Cairo**

Cairo, 2003

Sunset.

Jennifer Shepard breathed in the fragrant air of jasmine that came from the expansive gardens surrounding her hotel. She turned and surveyed her posh surroundings. The Mena House Oberoi was definitely a step up –a giant leap up—from the dirty streets and questionable hotels she had spent time in over the past eighteen months. The Pyramids of Giza were visible from her small terrace. The noise from the Khan el Khalili market hummed in the background. The pulse of Cairo. As she stretched, she ran a hand through her auburn locks and sighed. She was tired. The thought of a long soak in the tub was very appealing. She looked at her watch. Yes, there was time. Dinner reservations were not until 1900. There she would meet her contact and finish this current cat and mouse game that had become her life.

She began the bath water and went to double check the lock on the suite door. Stripping off her clothes, she twisted her long hair into a bun. She grabbed her glass of bourbon and brought it with her to the tub. She slipped inside and let the sensation take over, willing her body to relax. How long had it been since she had enjoyed a bath with bourbon and bubbles? London, 1998. She felt the familiar twinge of regret in her heart and chased it with a healthy swallow of bourbon. The burn in her throat doing little to ease the pain or the sweet sense of longing she felt.

"_Move over, Jen" Jethro's voice was husky as she leaned forward and allowed him to slip behind her into the antique claw foot tub. She sighed and leaned back against him relishing his strong chest and the arms that came to rest around her. Not that they rested for long. He picked up the washcloth and slowly began washing her arms. His lips skimmed along the tops of her shoulders and she softly moaned, enjoying the incredible sensations that happened whenever her body came in contact with his. The washcloth in his hands moved to her chest. She could feel that she was not the only one becoming aroused by this attention and wondered just how long this bath was going to last. With a devilish grin, she turned in his arms and urged him to slide up slightly in the tub-just enough for her to envelope the head of his erection and provide her own sweet torture. "God, Jen. Stop or this is going to end way too soon". Sighing, she turned back again, sliding her arms up and back around his neck, allowing him full access to her breasts as he gently began rubbing the washcloth over each in slow and sensual circles. Turning her head a fraction to the left, she let his lips take hers in a kiss. Deepening the kiss, they-"_

"Good thoughts?"

Jen's eyes jerked open as she reached for her weapon.

"Relax, Jenny!" Ziva held her arms up in mock surrender. "Don't shoot".

"Damn, you, Ziva! You scared me to death!" She sank back into the tub and the bubbles, hoping that her friend would attribute her flushed skin to the warmth of the bath. Dreading to know how Ziva had gotten into her suite let alone how long she had been standing there.

"But you are not dead, therefore, how am I responsible?" came the confused response. Ziva had some trouble with American idioms.

"If I had reached my Sig..." The redhead stopped and smiled, "Just an expression, Ziva. You startled me"

Her Israeli partner chuckled softly. "You were lost in thoughts, no?" She lifted her eyebrow, further irritating her partner by imitating the quirk she had picked up from the woman who was so obviously embarrassed in the tub in front of her. It wasn't often that she found Jenny vulnerable and she was going to make the most of it. "And I am wondering who were you thinking of?"

"No one!" the answer came a little too quickly.

Ziva laughed out loud this time. "Liar!" She smiled into the green eyes that looked up at her from the tub full of bubbles. "It was Gibbs, yes? Your Ahavah Olam- everlasting love" She dramatically rolled her eyes heavenward. "Don't even try and deny it!"

She barely ducked in time to avoid the wet washcloth that flew in her direction.

"From what you have told me, he is worthy to put such a smile on your face"

Jenny grimaced. So much for secrets! In the time they had worked together, one night and too much bourbon had made her vulnerable to Ziva's innocent interrogation about Andrew's father. The memory of what she must have told the Israeli still was a source of humiliation that she tried to lock behind a solid door in her memory. She opted for a change in subject. Anything to get Ziva off the subject of Jethro.

"How did you know I was here?"

"I checked at the airport. Your plane arrived from Heathrow two hours ago. I could have driven you from the airport."

Jen took another drink from her glass and smiled, "Might have blown my cover. Plus there was the bonus of Egyptian cab drivers. They are mild compared to you."

"What? My driving is not that bad!"

"Honestly, Ziva! You must have been an East European cab driver in a past life. I'm lucky that I survived this long!" She laughed, but couldn't help but think of some "near misses" when it came to Ziva's driving skills.

"Fine! The next time you will drive, and I will shoot." She tossed this comment saucily over her shoulder as she threw Jen a towel and walked out of the bathroom, "I –unlike you—never miss."

Jenny had to give her that point: Ziva was an excellent marksman in almost any situation and there had been more than a few occasions when Jenny had been the one to commandeer transportation to get them out of a hostile situation—often with Ziva covering and returning gunfire until they had lost their adversary.

* * *

"Is everything in order for tonight?" Jenny emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and sat down on the bed.

Montek Ishaak was an Indian national. A Muslim businessman who used 'creative accounting' to help fund terrorist groups in North and South America, Pakistan, and Afghanistan. A cruel man with a shrewd mind for business, and a weakness for American women.

"Yes. Preparations are complete. It ends tonight" The Israeli sounded confident.

"I hope so, Ziva. If I have to spend one more night resisting his slimy advances, I just might let you shoot him".

"Gladly. I volunteered to do something more painful two weeks ago"

"Your Director and mine would not be pleased with that" She smiled, then turned a cautious eye towards her partner. "Ziva, so much is riding on this. Our intel is good. He has smuggled more than twenty million dollars through the Khan and into the United States. The next shipment is for twenty more"

Ziva agreed. "The man is a terrorist. He cannot say he is innocent! The blood is on his hands even if he pays for others to kill and maim. Pays their families so they will strap a bomb to their chest in the name of Allah. The man deserves to die a slow and painful death" Her words held more than a touch of bitterness.

"As much as I agree, we must complete the mission as ordered" Her voice changed, "I know it is hard sometimes. Are you remembering Tali?" She spoke the name of Ziva's dead sister softly.

Ziva did not bother to hide the pain in her eyes from her friend. Much had been shared between the women during the past eighteen months. Some secrets had been withheld, of course, but it was with tacit understanding that not all needed to be known in order for it to be accepted. Jen was probably her closest friend and confidant since the death of her little sister years earlier in a Hamas suicide bombing.

"Yes, Tali's death still haunts me. I fear it always will"

"We all have regrets, Ziva. Regrets, anger, passion, pain. They remind us that we are still alive and -"

"-what we are fighting for" Ziva finished her sentence for her.

"Exactly."

Jenny was surprised to see a single tear slide down Ziva's cheek before the young woman wiped it away in anger. Though Ziva was not one to show emotion, Jenny had seen glimpses of the depth of compassion that the young officer often tried to hide. They did not speak of it. But Jenny knew; and she loved and respected the young woman even more for it.

"I am sorry, " Ziva began, only to pause and laugh, "Never apologize. It's a-"

"-sign of weakness" Jenny completed the rule for which she did not remember the number.

"Your Agent Gibbs is a very strange man. I hope to meet him someday. Aside from his terrible taste in alcohol, he seems a worthy warrior. As a friend, not foe".

Jenny smiled sadly. Seeing Jethro again was something she doubted she would ever do, let alone have the chance to introduce him to the young Mossad officer. She knew instinctively, however, that Jethro would like Ziva for the same reasons. Admiration for the honorable warrior within.

"He's the best, Ziva. It is always an honor to have the chance to learn from the best." She noticed the time and finished her drink. "Time for me to get dressed, Officer David. We have a terrorist to kill- uh, catch." she corrected herself at the last minute.

Ziva smiled. "I liked your fist idea better".

* * *

The dining room at Al Rubayyat was elegant. Jenny had chosen her dress carefully. Her job was to charm and distract. The evergreen material that clung to her curves did just that. She watched the man undress her with his eyes and forced herself not to shudder with revulsion. She had a mission to accomplish and nothing was going to keep her from getting this man. Especially when he was a link to a much bigger prize: La Grenouille—the code name of a French arms dealer she had been following for the past seven years. She had used her contacts discreetly over the course of time to try and follow La Grenouille's movements. She had left Paris four years earlier following a lead. He was a link to her past that had not been revealed to anyone, even Ziva. If it took charming a man who funded murder to get her ultimate vindication, she was prepared to do just that. She forced a smile on her carefully painted lips. Montek watched as she approached the table and stood, motioning for his aide to pull the chair out for their guest. A man in his position did not stoop to such menial tasks.

"Diane! You look beautiful tonight" his heavily accented English brushed over her hand as he kissed it. _Diane_. She thought the name was particularly appropriate. Diane Lane specialized in the formation of shell companies. She did not care for who or why. She got paid well for not asking questions. She just took money that wasn't rightly hers. _Reminded her of another Diane stateside who shared a similar moral code"._

"Thank you. I am glad our paths have crossed again. I am feeling lonely," she lied with a smile.

"After we dine, maybe we can remedy your problem" He motioned for his aide, whispered a few phrases in Arabic and watched as the smaller man scurried away.

He had been trying to bed this woman for three weeks. American women—at least the ones he had dealt with in the past—had been much more accommodating to his needs. This one seemed to have a mind of her own. His intrigue had been stronger than his anger. The pursuit had been most interesting. Perhaps tonight Allah would smile upon him and his growing lust would be satisfied.

"What brings you to Cairo?" he asked, carefully searching her eyes for an answer.

"Business. From London, to Cairo, and then to New York. No rest for the wicked" She let her hand slide suggestively up his arm. She saw him smile, and felt him relax. _Good. Her cover was still in place and she had him exactly where she wanted him._

Another aide appeared at Montek's side, bowing and apologizing while holding out a cell phone. Montek frowned, listened to the aide, and then took the call. Most of the words were lost on Jenny, but the overall stiffness of his body spoke a universal language. Something was wrong. He was not pleased. He ended the call abruptly.

"Problem?" She glanced into his eyes, hoping that nothing had happened to interfere with their mission.

Montek shook his head and forced a smile to his lips. "No. Just a small misunderstanding with a colleague. Nothing that cannot wait until the morning to be set right."

Dinner was uneventful. She made small talk and flirted shamelessly. She was prepared for his invitation for drinks in his suite. Jenny relaxed. _Everything was going as planned._

* * *

The force of a mortar round shook the dining room. Three blasts in quick succession. _They were under attack!_ She felt the heat of the blast and was thrown to the floor. She felt pain in those few seconds of consciousness. Then all faded to black, and she felt nothing.

* * *

Ziva froze when the blast ripped through the dining room. She quickly discerned that the weapons must be ground missiles coming from the north of the property, but their exact location had been difficult to pinpoint with the smoke and panic that followed this unexpected show of violence. The rounds rapidly deployed-each aimed at a strategic point: The first, main entry; the second, main exit of the hotel grounds; and the third, the main building itself.

_Jenny! _Her voice screamed in her head.

In the smoke and confusion that followed, she fought to enter the room—pushing her way past security and people who were trying to exit the main doors. She had ascertained where the firing was coming from, but there was no indication of who was responsible for it. She scanned the area where her friend had been. She caught a glimpse through the shadows of pale skin, red hair. She also smelled burning flesh and the coppery smell of fresh blood.

_No, not now! Not like this_! Her eyes took in what remained of the scene. Shoving chairs aside, she made her way to where they had been sitting.

Montek was dead. His body intact except for a large portion of his abdomen was missing-undoubtedly the blast had made projectiles of some items in the room. She spit with contempt into his open yet unseeing brown eyes. Had Jenny been more broken? The table! The heavy marble lay on its side. It was chipped and cracked, but it must have shielded her partner's body from the force of the blast. She swiftly knelt beside her and placed a tentative finger on her throat to feel for a pulse with the knowledge that the chance of finding one was remote. Jenny had been too close. There was no way she could have survived.

A faint throb at the end of her fingers shocked her. A heartbeat! Thready, but present. She was alive!

She looked around for one of the emergency medical personnel that had managed to push their way into the room. Security was scrambling to control the situation. No one was to enter or exit the dining room without clearance. She grabbed a medic by the arm and spoke to him harshly in Arabic. She saw the panic in his eyes, his refusal of her request. The smoke and darkness were to her advantage. She drew her weapon and held it to his head. There would be no chance of him refusing her now. She made it very clear to him that they would either make it out, or they both would be shot trying to leave the room. She kept her weapon trained on him as he gently lifted Jenny's body. Ziva guided him through the back kitchen service doors, and towards help.

* * *

Pain. It ebbed and flowed, reminding her of the tides along the Virginia coast that she had played in as a child. Intense pain, slowly moving away, and then coming back again. She could not move, could not open her eyes, and could not use her voice to call for help. She felt a quick stab in her arm and the pain eased, allowing her to slip into oblivion.

Jenny opened her eyes. Filtered light from the window was the first thing that actually registered in her mind. She attempted to move her head and was rewarded by pain and nausea. Better to stay still. _At least I'm alive. I think._ White ceiling, pale cream walls. The unmistakable smell of antiseptic. But this was unlike any hospital she had ever seen. It looked more like an office. Fighting the pain, she turned her head a fraction. It was an office. Or had been recently. The desk and computer remained. She was in a hospital bed. A solitary IV pole was connected to the bed and she saw the clear fluid dripping into her veins. Hushed voices. A wrinkled tanned face with kind eyes swam before her and she readjusted her vision. The man was old. He laid a gnarled but practiced hand on her forehead and whispered softly to her in what she recognized as Hebrew. Before she could form any words, he scurried away. She head the door open again after his departure and was relieved by the sight of familiar brown eyes that smiled into her own.

"Shalom, Jen" Ziva spoke quietly. "Welcome back"

Jenny tried to speak, pushed to make her tongue work. "I..." she managed weakly.

"Shh, my friend. You are safe. Not a hospital, but a secure location. Security is tight in the city. A hospital would have meant too many questions."

Jenny mentally nodded. _Yes, she thought, I remember the explosion._ Her eyes cut quickly to Ziva. Without words, she asked the question.

"Yes. Not exactly as we planned, but we did complete our mission. The shipment was caught before leaving the port. Montek Ishaak is dead. A radical group is taking credit for the attack. They still have no firm intel on why the area was targeted"

Jenny relaxed slightly. At least it was not a failure. Not what she expected, but there would be another time, another deal for her personal agenda. She would make sure of that.

"Why... why can't I …." she struggled to ask more questions.

"Dr. Alban says you have much heart. It is a miracle that you are alive." As if on cue, the man with the kind old face appeared at Ziva's side. The doctor spoke gently to her in soft Hebrew and bowed his head.

Jen, even in her hazed state, understood enough of his language to accept his blessing and felt him gently squeeze her hand. She, thankfully, was able to weakly return the kind gesture.

The next days passed in a haze of medication. Ziva had converted the room in the Israeli safe house into a virtual rehabilitation center. Dr. Alban came daily. His soft hands, quiet words and medication helped the pain, and aided her work through the confusion surrounding her bodily injuries. No head trauma, but Jenny had broken her arm, several ribs, and had suffered numerous contusions. Movement was slow and painful. Nurses and physical therapists provided gentle care.

The debriefing with Director Morrow had been handled discreetly via web cam. Ziva had done most of the talking. Director Morrow knew that his agent was injured, but recovering. The Mossad officer was insisting that there was no need for Agent Shepard to be moved. She was under medical care and resting. He trusted that his agent would have told him otherwise if that were not the case.

Since the blast, Cairo had been in an uproar. He had no desire to get into a pissing match with the Egyptians or Mossad. Especially now that Ishaak was no longer funding terrorists. Jenny was granted medical leave for sixty days. She was to report to the American Embassy at the end of that time and await further instructions.

At the end of three weeks, she was recovered enough to move back to London to spend the rest of her leave with Gwen and her son. Ziva had arranged for a private flight and landing at a secure airfield. If anyone were to inquire, 'Diane Lane' had perished in the dining room with her companion.

"Ziva?" Her friend looked up and smiled.

"Thank you... for everything. You saved my life".

The young woman merely shrugged. "You are my partner. I would not leave you behind. You have obligations and promises to keep"

Jen shook her head. She knew Ziva had risked much more and that there was things left out of the story. She doubted she would ever know all the facts. She was okay with not knowing. In her mind, however, she owed Ziva her life. _She would not forget that_.

* * *

To be continued….


	6. Chapter 6: Opportunity Knocks

**Protection Detail**

Chapter 6: **Opportunity Knocks**

**Disclaimer:**No copyright infringement intended**. **

**Author's Note**: Just playing with my favorite characters. Some are old friends—ghosts visiting for a while; others are from my own imagination. I hope you enjoy. Reviews are appreciated. I can't answer each one, but please know how much they mean to me! Thank you!

**London, 2005**

Jenny looked up from her desk and over her glasses as her almost five year old son came barreling into the room. "Mama! Mama!" he shouted, throwing his small body into her own. Her arms closed protectively around him and she smiled as he looked into her face. Sparkling blue eyes met sparkling green ones.

"Felipe has gone to collect her, Mama! She's coming!" The sound of the outer door opened and closed. Voices could be heard in the hall. He pulled free from her arms and ran for the stairs. Jenny followed, laughing. "Andrew Jethro! You behave!"

Ziva turned just in time to intercept the small body missile that was A.J. and embraced him. Her eyes met Jenny's and they laughed together. Visits from "Auntie Z" were infrequent but always a cause for joy.

"Auntie Z! You must come into the garden and see my fort. Mama says that it is nearly as good as the one that you had in Austria! But she won't let me have real guns or "gayraides", yet. She said maybe when I'm 30 -which is FOREVER away!" The emphasis he put on _"forever"_ was comical. "You must come and see!" Ziva let herself be pulled along and Jen fell into step beside her following the cleanly manicured paths that encompassed the estate grounds.

"You obviously have made a fan for life! He has been up since six this morning. He started looking out of the window every few minutes since Felipe left."

Ziva inspected the fort, giving her hearty support and encouragement. Jenny walked a few feet away and sat on the garden bench—watching her friend and her son play in the garden. Inside her heart, she smiled. _It was good to see Ziva like this: Away from work and away from decisions about life and death. It was good to see her relax and hear her laugh. _ The relationship Ziva had formed with A.J. was almost as strong as she shared with her son. She found that comforting.

Scuttlebutt within NCIS had it that things were moving quietly, but with deadly intent on both fronts of the Middle East. From her discussions over the past few months with Director Morrow, the whole of NCIS was on alert. One of their own-someone who worked closely with Jethro's own team- had been the target of a shooting and kidnapping. NCIS as a whole was working on finding the culprit, but she knew Jethro would not permit himself to rest until he caught the bastard responsible. Intel was running that either Hamas or Mossad was the cause. She hoped, not only for Ziva's sake, that it was not related to Mossad. _ When would the fighting stop? _ Ziva was thinner and withdrawn-_Something uneasy curled and lurked like a hazy shadow in the back of Jenny's brain._ She tried to shake it off, but it lingered. _It was __**good**__ that Ziva had come for a visit._

The two friends found time to speak only after the whirling dervish that was her son was safely tucked in bed.

She sat on the sofa facing her friend. "A.J. is growing so fast. And getting so tall. I do hope he never gets to play with "gayraids".

"And I heartily second that motion. Felipe let him watch some WWII footage and he has been obsessed ever since. Of course, at this point, I could probably hand him an immature baby pineapple and get away with it."

"Drink?" Jenny asked. Ziva nodded and accepted the glass of wine that Jen handed her, "At least until it failed to blow something up".

Ziva smirked as she watched Jen pour her usual bourbon. "Old habits die hard, yes?"

"Very hard, I'm afraid." She turned her glass nervously. _This was not just a social call._

"Is it true then? Have they really offered you the position?" Brown eyes watched closely for the answer. _She wished she did not have to hide things from her friend, but Mossad came first. If there was going to be a change, she needed to know as soon as possible. _

_Always straight to the point_, Jen mused, "Yes. Ziva, I'm torn. I've been working my whole life for something like this. The chance to be the first woman to run a Federal agency-and my name is on the short list? Men can be complete assholes when pushed aside by a woman. I know I can do the job, but the opposition is tremendous".

"Is this about you or him?" 

_And they both knew the question had nothing to do with Tom Morrow or Andrew. _

"Both, maybe" Jenny answered. "I walked away from him. We have a son." She turned; the uncertainty evident in her eyes.

Ziva took a drink and contemplated the woman in front of her. "A.J. will begin boarding school in the fall, yes?"

"Yes. That has been the plan since he was born. It's the only way it was ever going to work. I will come and see him when I can. Visit him here on holiday. This is his home. I won't pull him from all that he knows or from Gwen and Felipe only for me to chase a dream."

"What has changed then? He goes to school and you go to Washington. In your position, you will have better access and opportunity to see him. Of course, with your position will come more risk as well?"

"I know", Jen said quietly, "Considerably more. I have considered that".

"What do you plan on telling Gibbs?"

Jen bit her lower lip. "God, Ziva! What do I say?" She parodied a moment of bravado, "Agent Gibbs, in the spirit of SOP, I felt it prudent to inform you o year old son that I've never told you about."

She sat down hard in the leather chair opposite the sofa. "I honestly thought that I would never see him again. I … I don't know what to say. I don't know if he ever wanted children. We had the chance to interact with them on ops before. He's good with them, but it didn't exactly come up in general conversation, if he wanted any of his own. Ducky said that his marriage to Stephanie didn't last long, but Jethro is hardly a saint. He's been married three times. He probably is in a relationship and even if he isn't, I can't. This position. It would never work. I feel like I'm being selfish keeping it from him, but maybe it is better that he doesn't know about A.J at all."

Ziva sat quietly listening to Jenny vent. _So, he never told her about his first wife and his daughter? Interesting. I wonder why? _She had only recently come across this intel while doing some background on NCIS for another Mossad operative who was working undercover in the U.S. It was "need to know", and despite their friendship, Jenny had not needed to know. Mossad came first. Whatever his reasons, Ziva did not feel it was appropriate that Gibbs' secret about the murder of his first wife and his daughter come from her. She was pulled back into the conversation by Jenny asking:

"...so what do you think?"

"I am glad that I am not in your position"

"Very helpful, Officer David" Jenny huffed, taking a healthy swallow of bourbon.

"I am trying to listen. I want to help you, my friend. What can I say? A.J. will not be a problem. I would protect him with my life, and it is a secret that I can take to my grave if necessary to protect both of you. I, too, have arranged contacts to ensure his safety. The problem is not your Agent Gibbs, either. In Israel we have a saying, "Yihyeh beseder"—it will work out. It will be okay."

She moved from the sofa and took one of Jenny's pale hands into her own tan one. "Look at me!"

She waited until Jen's eyes were locked onto her own. "When someone is as good as you are has been given an opportunity to make a difference like you can-you take it! To change and to make it a better world for your child, for all children! Why do you question and not simply act? You take away the bombs and the dying in the streets by any means necessary! Are you not more selfish by refusing that opportunity than by taking it?"

Jenny looked into Ziva's eyes. She smiled, released her hand and walked over to the fireplace.

"I'm right, you know." Her English, softly accented by her native tongue, was a much needed reassurance. A strong friendship had been formed in the years they had been together. Jenny trusted that and she knew Ziva felt the same. Rule #4 wasn't just a secret about A.J. any longer- it had evolved into something much more personal.

"Yes, "Jenny turned from the fireplace, squaring her shoulders. "I know."

"Then I only have this to say," she lifted her glass, "Mazel Tov, Madame Director."

Smiling, she accepted the toast.

To Be Continued….


	7. Chapter 7: Homecoming

**Protection Detail : **** Chapter 7: Homecoming **

**Disclaimer:**Don't own it-never will.

**Author's Note: ** I appreciate those following and reviewing the story. I hope not to disappoint.

Chapter 7: **Homecoming **

**Washington, D.C. 2005**

"He's your problem now, Director" Tom Morrow's voice faded as he left the darkness of MTAC.

Jenny stood and turned, "Hello, Jethro". Her heart was hammering in her chest as she stared into his eyes. Even in the dim light she could tell he was more than surprised-shocked might have been a better adjective.

She tried for levity: "Should we skip the 'you haven't changed a bit, bull'?"

They made polite banter, but they both knew things _had_ changed. His offer of "…off the job" and blunt admission of "_that's too bad. I've missed you, Jen_" kept running through her mind.

She used her "official" request for an essential sit rep by basically insisting that she accompany him in his truck to go home and allow him to change. As she sat in his basement sipping bourbon from a mason jar- she couldn't help but marvel at how some things about the man had _**not changed**_ and were as constant as the morning sun. The basement smelled of sawdust, lacquer, and Jethro. The boat—she mused—was still there and she was pretty sure it was the same one that she had helped him work on years earlier. She sipped again, remembering….

_**She had chosen not to wear a bra under her sweatshirt that night for comfort more than seduction, although, if she were honest, she did feel a tiny bit wicked with her decision. She had accepted his convoluted invitation for dinner- Chinese and bourbon. She didn't care what they ate as long she finally had an opportunity to observe the man in his home environment. The enigma of Gibbs was infuriating at times. She soon discovered that "dinner" basically consisted of being sequestered in his basement debating the proper way to sand a boat. **_

"_**I really don't see how it matters, Gibbs, it's a BOAT!"**_

"_**Are you trying to piss me off? For the hundredth time, Jen, a boat is a FEMALE, a 'her". And it matters because it takes the stain better so "she" looks better." He snorted, "YOU should understand at least that part of it".**_

_**He rolled his eyes and came around to her side of the boat. **_ _**His hand brushed-accidently, she wondered-against the side of her breast as he moved behind her. She could feel an impressive erection press briefly against her and she bit her bottom lip. How long could they take this UST before they crossed the line? **_

"_**Go with the grain, Shepard", he had whispered in her ear, pulling her close enough to his body to align his hand and arm with hers. "With the grain". They moved together- one, two, three strokes-their bodies in perfect rhythm. He abruptly pulled away, evidently as aware of her need as he was of his own.**_

Feeling constrained in her jacket, she undid the buttons and waited, _trying not to imagine a very naked Jethro one floor up. _Just the thought made her nipples pebble-a condition she was thankful that her short jacket could cover. After the disaster Morrow had basically handed her, she was appalled that sex was even on her mind.

Kate had evidently been an efficient and beloved member of the team. She had it on good authority that her murder had _**not been**_ sanctioned by the hand of Mossad. The prime suspect, however, was a Mossad undercover operative and CIA mole named Ari, who was handled by Ziva during his cover in Hamas. She had to believe -even tenuously—that Ari was indeed following orders and both Ziva and the CIA were _not _responsible for an uncontrolled assassin. Surely, Ziva would have said something, but she knew loyalties were strained. If the roles were reversed, would she follow orders or confide in a friend? She resigned herself to the knowledge that loyalty to her country came first. Ziva shared that same sentiment when it came to Israel. As the newly appointed Director of NCIS, Jenny could only hope that Jethro's "gut" was wrong.

_The fact that it rarely was bothered her tremendously. _

* * *

It had been less than a week. Less than a week into her new role, and Jenny had said "hello and goodbye" to Ziva under horrible circumstances.

She knew that her friend was grieving. Why Ziva had withheld that Ari was also her half-brother had been her choice to make, but Jenny was surprised because Jewish culture was very family oriented. Another loss after Tali had to be devastating.

She knew, too, about what had happened in Jethro's basement. Jenny had simply put the pieces in place, and when asked the blunt question, Ziva did not deny it. Ducky, along with the interesting forensic young Goth, Abby, had concluded that the trajectory of the bullet and Ari's resulting demise could not have happened as Jethro had written in his report. Her official position as Director had allowed her to draw on Dr. Mallard and via their mutual respect and friendship had officially agreed and reported the incident as Jethro stated.

She knew what that shot had cost Ziva. She also knew that Jethro could never understand that part of the sacrifice Ziva had made in saving him was because he was the man that had fathered a child precious to Ziva's heart. Ziva's sacrifice had been about A.J. almost as much as it had been about Mossad and her loyalty to Israel.

_That, she knew, she would never reveal. _

* * *

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8: Questions

**Protection Detail****:Chapter 8:**** A New Addition**

**Disclaimer**: SDDD ("same disclaimer/different day")

**Authors Note**: Trying to keep y'all interested! Thank you for the kind reviews

* * *

She knew the minute he sat beside her in MTAC that the shit had hit the proverbial fan. She was determined, however, not to back down. "Something I can help you with this morning, Special Agent Gibbs"

"Yeah. I got a personnel issue. Know anything about that"?

_Evidently, Ziva –in typical fashion—had arrived a few days early thus killing any possible prep time she may have used with Gibbs. She had wanted to bring Ziva back to DC ever since their awkward goodbye surrounding Ari. Once a partner-always a friend. She knew that Ziva had much to add to NCIS; and Ziva could gain much as well. _

"Mossad trained her to spy and kill. Not to investigate crime scenes". His irritation was obvious, and she couldn't help but take a little satisfaction in it. _Jethro hated to be outmaneuvered or caught off guard_. "Send her to the CIA". Seeing he was making little progress, he followed with "Why didn't you _ask m_e first, Jen?"

"And what would you have said?" His stony silence confirmed her suspicion. "Exactly. Rule # 18: 'It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission." She smiled slyly. It wasn't the first time she had used _his rules_ to her favor-and she doubted it would be the last. And Jethro—despite himself—would adapt in time.

* * *

It had taken a fair amount of pulling strings and playing politics, but Jenny could tell that Ziva was settling into life in Washington. It was good to have her here. God knew that Ziva needed a break from the intensity of life under the thumb of Mossad and her father.

The decision –_**her **_decision-had been made and damn if Jethro would change her mind. Ziva needed this. And NCIS could use some fresh blood and a new perspective. Ziva could provide both.

The next morning, she met Gibbs on the catwalk. Watching over the agents below was a little like watching children in a playground.

"She seems to be settling in okay"

"She almost killed my entire team yesterday" Gibbs muttered.

"How"?

"Driving home from a crime scene".

Jenny smirked, "I should have warned you: I think she may have been an Eastern European cab driver in a former life".

"She has no field skills or training and-"

"Neither did I when I started." The look she gave him playfully diffused his anger.

Not to be outdone, Gibbs leaned in and whispered, "Well, you always were always a "fast learner…."

_For a few moments, neither one of them were in that building or in their current positions. They both were seven years and a thousand miles away surrounded by old memoires and erotic ghosts from the past. _

Turning on his heel, he abruptly headed down the stairs and into the bull pen._ A typical way for Jethro to end a conversation or confrontation that he knew he wasn't going to win._ Smiling to herself, she headed back to her office. _"Round One: Shepard"._

She was glad that she was in the position to give Ziva the opportunity to work with Gibbs. She remembered past exchanges when she and the Israeli were partners and how the young woman had wanted to meet Jethro. Well, she was learning that while the man was an excellent investigator, he did come with his challenges.

_She can't say I didn't warn her, _she reasoned.

Minutes later, a small noise pulled her eyes up from the computer screen. She pulled down her reading glasses, not the least surprised to see Ziva standing beside her desk. If anything. Ziva was creative. _A vent or a window? She would investigate later._

"Officer David," Jenny returned the smile, "What can I do for you?"

"I liked your memo, Director. I agree. The "Madame" part had to go. I have heard people talking and bets were being placed on how the job and the name were related. I wanted to cause them great pain for their insubordination, but I did not."

"I appreciate your restraint, Officer David" She smiled and relaxed in her chair, indicating an open chair to her guest and that Ziva should do the same. "How are you, Ziva?'

"Good. Gibbs is fair. Not easy to understand at all times, but I am learning. It would help if these "Rules" were written down. Tony is... well, I don't know what to think of him, his obsession with films, and American idioms. When he is particularly annoying, I have mentioned that I can kill him with various office supplies. He actually looked worried once or twice. McGee is very polite. While not openly hostile, Abby does not yet like nor trust me. Dr. Mallard and I get along well. He does, however, have some interesting stories." She smiled, "I heard his story of how you of "tossed your lunch"—

"-its "lost my lunch", Jenny interjected.

"… and it now explains your reaction when we stumbled upon those four dead and well decomposed bodies in Austria. In short, I am happy. How is A.J.?"

"Doing well. He hasn't broken any more windows- yet. I never realized that my father financing a large portion of the "Shepard Library" for the school would come in handy. I spoke with him yesterday via web cam. I can't believe how much I miss him!"

"How is the situation with Gibbs?"

Jen shook her head. _Blunt, as usual._ She expected no less. "It's complicated, Ziva". She couldn't deny how her heart beat faster when he barged thru her door—much to Cynthia's dismay-without an appointment; let alone knocking. Standing next to him: his smell, the occasional grin she was able to pull from him that reminded her so much of their son, and sometimes just a look they shared and without a doubt they were both far away from D.C. and much were closer than partners should be.

"Why? I've seen how he looks at you."

"Therein the complicated, part, Officer David" Jenny blushed. "I won't deny that I still have feelings for him, but I trust you've been learning the Rules?"

"Oh yes, Rule #12. Tony does not seem too fond of that particular rule"

"Jethro created it for a reason." _And I helped him prove how right it was,_ she thought to herself.

Ziva eyed her carefully, "I think you are not letting the cat out of the sack for other reasons"

"The expression is "cat out of the bag", and you're right. I have my reasons. A.J. being at the top of the list"

"I think Gibbs would make an excellent father… and A.J. would enjoy him." Jenny had no doubt that her son found Auntie Z very easy to talk to and confide in.

Jen leaned back in her chair and considered that statement. "Maybe, you're right, Ziva, but don't know if it's worth the chance. He could hurt him, too. And I will not risk that"

"I do not think that you are being fair to either of them, Director." Ziva stood and turned to go. She paused with her hand on the door, "Perhaps you will reconsider?"

Jenny knew the young Officer was tenacious when it came to certain causes. Arguing would not get them anywhere. "I promise to think about it, Ziva."

"Good. I will take that as progress" She smiled as she left the Directors office.

A minute later, Cynthia buzzed: "I'm sorry, Director, but I didn't even know Office David was in your office".

"It's ok, Cynthia… " After she released the button, she couldn't help but laugh out loud. Ziva had not lost her touch and maybe-just maybe—she should consider what Ziva was suggesting.

* * *

To be Continued…


	9. Chapter 9: Two Steps Forward

**Protection Detail: Chapter 9: Two Steps Forward/One Step Back**

**Disclaimer: **Same as always.

**Authors Note**: Let's face it: Jenny and Jethro are both very physical people. It stands to reason that the passion they had for the job often spilled over into their intimate times as well. Warning- it was time for a little "M" heat.

* * *

Ziva was angry.

The case was puzzling. Gibbs reaction to it was even more so. How could he not see that it was perfectly logical that Commander Tanner was a traitor to his country? All of the investigation was pointing in that direction. She felt his focus was misdirected and found it maddening.

Of course, the boy only complicated things. Looking at them together added a sense of confusion. After a frustrating hour in MTAC (complicated by the fact that her colleague was being particularly irritating), she and Tony made her way down the stairs to the bullpen. Ziva slowed considerably when she saw Jenny standing on the landing, watching Gibbs blow up a latex glove as a balloon for young Zach, the Commander's son.

As hard as she tried, Jenny found that she couldn't move from the landing. She watched Jethro's face as he interacted with Zach. Saw the twinkle in his blue eyes, his relaxed posture, and his ease at conversation. _That should be him with our son,_ her mind whispered. Jethro and A.J. would get along like that. _If someone gave them the chance. Would Jethro love their son? Could A.J. bring back the smile that Jen saw so infrequently? _So many questions that she wanted—she needed- to have answered. She thought of the conversation she had with A.J. before leaving for D.C.

_London, 2005_

"_Mama?" Andrew's voice was unusually subdued. This must be something serious._

_Jenny looked down at the boy snuggled in her arms and waited for his question._

"_Do I have a Papa?"_

"_Yes, my love. You do." She knew this conversation was long overdue._

"_Where is he? I've not seen him. Grandmamma Gwen showed me a picture once. She said that I have blue eyes, just like Papa. He doesn't even come and visit me like you and Auntie Z do. Doesn't he want me?" _

_He turned and earnestly looked into his mother's face, "Is he mean like Liam's father? I don't want to see him if he is mean to me"_

_Jenny stared into her sons blue eyes unable to prevent her own eyes from filing with tears. She hugged the boy tightly to her body. "Your Papa was never mean. He would have loved you very much, but he had to go away before you were born."_

"_Mama?" his young mind struggled with something. "Is it okay to pretend that Papa is here? I pretend sometimes that you are here sitting by my bed and talking to me. I know it's not for real but it makes me feel happy. Especially when you and Auntie Z are away at your job. Sometimes, I pretend it is Papa and we talk about my fort. Is that okay?"_

_Jenny's tears fell and she was glad that A.J. could not see them as they lay snuggled together in her bed. "That is fine, my love. I'm sure your Papa would like that, too. He is a very brave man; just like you!"_

"_Is that why you named me after him? Because I am brave?" She could feel him smile into her chest._

"_Yes. You are the brave man in my life, Andrew Jethro Gibbs. You help keep Mama safe. Even when I am far away, I think about you and know that I am going to be okay."_

* * *

Ziva could see it. The way Jenny held her body, the tilt of her head, and the look in her eyes. Zach was six, the same age as A.J. Strangely enough, the boys had many common characteristics. If Zach's hair had been a little more red …

"New hires keep getting younger and younger, hey Madame Director?"

Jenny was pulled from her daydream, and smiled at Tony, "Obviously you didn't get the memo, Agent DiNozzo"

"What memo was that?" Tony was confused.

"The one that said that the next person who called her "Madame" Director was going to get keel hauled—whatever that is." Ziva smirked.

"It's ..." Tony began.

"...very unpleasant" Jenny finished his sentence. Looking pointedly at Ziva, she said, "Tell Agent Gibbs that I need to see him in my office, now" She gave "the stare" that Ziva now knew had originated from Gibbs, and carried with it the "_Don't ask me why, just do it now or I'll have to hurt you_" warning.

She and Tony continued into the bull pen.

"What did the Director want?" Gibbs asked Ziva. Somehow she knew that he had picked up on the vibes that had passed between them. _She was finding that there was very little Gibbs missed in observation. _

"You." She paused to let the effect sink in. "In her office". As she watched Gibbs take the stairs; she glanced up. Jenny was still on the catwalk just outside of her office. Feeling bold, Ziva winked at the Director and threw her a wicked grin.

Jen squared her shoulders and met Jethro's look with an amused one of her own, "I'd forgotten how good you are with kids. Ever think of having any of your own?"

Jethro's smiled was genuine, the one that made her melt on the inside. _The smile that made her capitulate to almost anything he requested. _

"Is that an offer, Jen?" he teased

"No, Jethro. That is not an offer. Merely an observation" _I've already made good on the offer—all 8lbs and 7 oz. of it. _

"Do you know why I get along with kids so well?'' She froze, waiting on his answer, "because when they lie, they don't have the guile to get away with it."

If he was surprised by her abrupt turn and the slam of her office door as they finished the conversation, he made no mention of it. _He never would—the ass! Liies... guile. Did he still think of her leaving like that? It wasn't like she had much of a choice! __He might be attracted to this little boy, but there was no way in hell she was going to let him hurt their—no, __**her **__son. _

* * *

**Later that same evening/ Gibbs basement**

_Damn!_ Jethro's gut wasn't the only thing reacting as she carefully made her way down his steps and into his basement. Zach was only six, and even he had stopped work on the boat to admire the pretty lady that had just let herself into Agent Gibbs' basement. "Hubba, hubba" Gibbs said softly to himself.

"Dinner at the White House?"

Jenny smiled. She had chosen this dress, and had accepted this date simply because Jethro had pissed her off early that day. Two can play at this game, she had decided. And she was definitely going to use any and all weaknesses that he had as weapons against him_. She remembered far more than she liked to admit._

"A date actually. And I'd prefer it if you just said you liked my dress" She smirked at his obvious effort to hide the fact that her presence in his basement distracted him in any way.

_Playing to her strengths, I see, _Gibbs thought as he quickly turned away from her. "I haven't decided yet".

He sent Zach up the stairs to grab a soda while he and the Director talked. Gibbs trying very hard not to think about what she was or was not wearing under the dress and how much he would personally like to strangle her date. The woman raised more than just his blood pressure. _Mentally, he slapped the back of his own head. She walked away, Jethro. _His inner voice was very clear._ It was her choice. You made an offer when she returned months ago and she clearly said "No" to any off the job activities_.

After their conversation, she had left on her "date". Zach was now safely in bed. He returned to his basement and went back to work on his boat. Working the wood with his tools, he stopped and slid his hand along the side of a section he had just finished. Smooth, almost like silk.

_Paris, February 1999_

"_Jethro, what's in the bag?" Jenny's interest was warranted since she had never seen him carry any bag unless it contained takeout food. This bag was a delicate shade of purple and definitely did not contain take out. He had stumbled and stammered at the store so badly that the sales woman had taken pity on him. He had merely pointed at the delicate silk night gown and said "That". She had even found a bag that matched the gown perfectly and added the paper and fancy ribbon._

"_Only one way to find out, Jen"_

_He watched as she opened the bag—the look on her face making him wonder if this was how she must have looked like on Christmas mornings as a child with anticipation and excitement. As she lifted the silky gown from the bag, she turned to him with a slow, sexy smile._

"_Do you like it?"_

"_Does it matter? Evidently, you do". She held it up against her and walked over to where he was standing. "It's beautiful, Jethro. Thank you."_

_Later that night, he remembered how she looked; walking from the bathroom to their bed dressed in nothing but the nightgown. He remembered the feel of it against his hands: pure silk and seduction. The thinness of the material. The way he could feel her heat and the response of her body to his touch. The taste of her mouth on his. Her softness combined with his tough exterior made for one hell of a sensation! He ran his hands over the silk only twice before pulling it over her head and letting it drop to the floor, anxious to feel her naked, hot and ready in his arms. Best $75 dollars he had ever spent. Even if it didn't stay on her long enough to fully appreciate it._

Pulled back from his memory, he stepped back from the boat. He turned to his chipped coffee mug that contained much more bourbon than coffee, and drank it all in one long gulp. What was he going to do? She was too much of a distraction. _No, he was definitely not going to fall in love with her again_.

_But what if, _his mind argued, _he had never quit loving her in the first place?_

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


End file.
